I'm so fucking depressed

Since the beginning of this blog, three years ago now, there has been a link on the left side marked T-shirts. If you haven't checked it out before, I recommend you do so before February 10th....that's when one of the funniest, most fucked up, and awesome sites is closing down. Yes, T-shirt Hell is going out of business.

And speaking of funny, awesome, fucked up sites, does anyone know what happened to Mike? I've tried reaching him by email with no response...fucker...

Sometimes, they get it right

Eating tomato soup on my lunch break, trying to grab a few moments of calm between work and the kids home on a snow day, I heard my front open. I looked across the room to see The Thing standing in the doorway, lightly covered with snow, holding a dozen yellow roses - my favorite. And with a simple hug, an 'I love you' and a kiss he was gone; back to work.

Sometimes, they get it perfect.

My 3rd Blogiversary: the one I almost forgot (AKA: she really does have the largest breasts I've ever seen outside of porn)

As you all know, I haven't had as much time, energy, or motivation to blog this past year - love me anyways? I'm trying to get better at it but the mind comes and goes lately. I just realized yesterday that I forgot one of my closest friend's (Franks-and-bean's) birthday earlier this month. How much do I suck?

I missed De-lurking Day, I almost forgot this anniversary and I don't think I put on panties this morning.

Yep, no panties.

The last two years, I've had The Thing do a guest post, but this year I wanted to do something different. Besides, when I mentioned my Blogiversary, he said "I told you never to say the word 'blogiversary' again"

So this year, I asked the beautiful and talented Girlfriend to take over the reins. I figure, it's the least I can do to make up for her mom being a whore and all.

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What a year it's been! Don't you agree?

We've had a Presidential Inauguration, a crashing and rebounding stock market, the "Miracle on the Hudson", a war in the Gaza Strip, among many other world-wide events. As Miss Fauve has mentioned already, we've had another monumental occasion just this week (today even!)…we have the anniversary of this very blog. Just as Aretha was probably extremely grateful to sing at the inauguration on Tuesday, I'm glad to be here singing for you. Well, I'm not actually going to sing. No one would enjoy that. I'll just be writing, and probably not doing that great of a job that, either. But you have to read on! It's like crack really, you just can't say no. At least that's what I hear. Plus, if you don't read on, how will you get to the end?

I've been racking my brain (heh. I said rack.) for something interesting to write about, but I'm pretty damn boring. Especially boring, now that Fauve has moved to that Far Away State, I don't have daily doses of our humor and silliness. I think it's fitting, then, to recount some of past escapades. And so, I give you…"The History of Fauve and Girlfriend: An Abbreviated Version of Events As Told by the Most Beautiful and Lovely of the Pair, Girlfriend (Not to Dismiss the Beauty and Loveliness of the Other By Any Stretch, Which is Far Beyond What Any of You Might Imagine…Especially When She Dyes Her Hair Red. It's Hott. Double T Hott. Totally, Irresistibly Sexy.) " or "The Time We Met, I Hooked Her Up with the Love of Her Life, and I Helped Her Move to a Far Away State" (Included are lots of parenthetic statements (Because that's how I roll)):

Part 1: The Time We Met

I can't say that I distinctly remember meeting Fauve for the first time. Although, it's likely that I met her when I did the usual office tour on my first day of work. She probably dismissed me as another bimbo in the administrative staff and I don't blame her. I'm pretty damn good looking and I was sooo young when I started, I probably came off as a bimbo. Oh, and I have huge knockers so people automatically assume I have no brain. Also, I had a very lowly position in the office with a high turnover rate…why would anyone get to know me if I was going to be gone soon? I only lasted in that position for six months, as it turned out (because of my awesomeness and exceeding intelligence, I was promoted and therefore became accepted through the office). Fauve and I met a few months after I started in my lowly position, when I was asked to join the Association for Stuff and Standards committee. (A.S.S.) After I stormed the group and took the committee over by force, like the good dictator I'm training to be, Fauve and I began our friendship. You see, I'm sure I cracked some stupid joke, or she did, and she probably snorted and I probably spilled my lunch all over my lap, but we hit it off. Because we weren't really close at the beginning, and A.S.S. only met once a month, I began telling everyone she was my "once a month friend." Oh, what fun we have at the office. Now she's more like my "every day pain in the ass". I'm totally kidding. Or am I? Heh.

Part 2: I Hooked Her Up with the Love of Her Life

As time went on, Fauve and I grew closer and closer and she shared with me the news about the separation and finally the divorce from Paperweight. I actually met the guy only once before the divorce and don't remember it very well, as it was at an office party and I was trashed, but I could tell that she was much better off and much happier without him. He was, after all, just a stupid paperweight. So, when the divorce was about to be finalized, I had a suggestion (or maybe she did…hell, I'm taking the credit for it…I had a suggestion). We needed to take her out to the bar, get her drunk and get her laid. (At that point, I did not, in fact, know the whole story that she had dated a few times on the internet and had already gotten laid. Bitch kept things from me.) So, we planned the outing with a few close friends, including my husband. What an awkward night for him. Long story (which you've read before) short (which you've also read), Fauve is a big fat lying whore (minus the big and fat…have I mentioned she's hott?) Well, okay, she's not a whore, either. Just a sleep-with-a-guy-you-just-met-and-then-lie-about-it-to-your-close-friend kind of gal. I've since forgiven her for the lying part, because hey, she met the love of her life through my wildly awesome bar pick up methods. But that doesn't keep me from bringing it up...did you know she didn't tell me for MONTHS that she and The Thing slept together...multiple times...on the first night?! Of course, I immediately dubbed her a whore, so I can't imagine why she wouldn't tell me. Back to the pick-up: did she ever mention to you that I've been with my husband since I was 19 and as such, I've never picked up a guy for MYSELF in a bar. God only knows why she trusted me to help her out. Our other friends were there and were much more experienced at bar pickups. Even with my lack of experience, the end result turned out wondrous, don't you think? She's now with someone perfect for her, even if neither of them are perfect themselves. That is what brings me to Part 3, actually:

Part 3: I Helped Her Move to a Far Away State

To be honest, I didn't lift a finger myself to pack, load, or haul any of her stuff besides one or two boxes from work. I've moved five times in five years myself and absolutely loathe anything to do with moving and Fauve lived quite the distance from my house (she was FOREVER south of the city and I'm FOREVER north…we actually were the two people in the office that lived the longest distance from work and in absolutely opposite directions). So, she did the moving herself. I'd like to think I provided (and still provide) some good support when necessary. I know firsthand, having moved from another state myself to be with my husband, how damn hard it is to pick up, start anew, and be in strange and alien surroundings virtually by oneself. It's hard and scary. But I think I'm good at making Fauve laugh and have helped her out a little. I mean, who couldn't love my big breasts, winning personality and insane wittiness? I'm practically the whole package. In fact, if Fauve and I were gay, we'd probably leave Thing 1 and my husband and just be together forever. Actually, we probably wouldn't do well as a couple. I yell way too much for her. And, she can drink me under the table. AND, we are both sooo disgustingly in love with our significant others that we're set for life.

Part 4: The Previously Unmentioned Moral to the Story

So, even though Fauve and I have only known each other for a few years and I've only barely written about a couple of life-changing events in her life, not even mine, there is a big lesson to take from my wonderful and delightful writing: First, I'm really not that full of myself. It's my half-funny way of making you laugh. Okay, I'm maybe ½ that full of myself. But seriously, if you saw how big my boobs are, you'd love me, too. Lastly, Fauve is my best friend, besides my husband. In fact, she's the second best friend I've EVER had, besides my husband. I can laugh so much with her every time I'm around her and I can cry with her and be angry with her and that is awesome. Not the being angry part. The sharing things part. Geez! Through everything she's gone through in the last few years, and through everything I've gone through, I can most definitely tell that we are going to be friends for a long time.

Isn't that is so cool?

A day in the life of Bottlecap

Ah! The good life....

The Your Mom Saga

I think I've only mentioned Thing's mom, Your Mom, once in past posts. She's a very nice woman but very high strung. She's in a constant state of perpetual crisis - whether one actually exists or not. I don't know how she does it. It's exhausting just to watch. But as far as (future) Mother-in-laws go, I've always known I could do much worse. While we aren't terribly close (we don't 'do lunch' or have phone chats), we've always gotten along, talk at family functions and have each other's families over for dinner periodically.

And then Christmas of '08 happened. (insert ominous sounding music here)

Your Mom is also a foster mom. Her current charge is a smallish boy of 10 whom we shall call Odious. Need I say more?
Now, my kids are far from perfect little Stepford children. I know this. However, I can snatch and discipline a misbehaving child at 20 paces; location or situation be damned. My kids, Thing, and friends can attest to the fact that I run a pretty tight ship. There isn't much I put up with and I have no problem dealing with problems as they arise.
Which brings us to Christmas Day. We had dinner with the Thing's family at his Aunt's house. If you remember, Thing's extended family is totally normal, which I'm still getting used to being associated with. However, I've failed to mention previously that they also have money. And not McMansion kind of money either, but money. So they always make me a little nervous. AND I was really nervous on Christmas because it would be the first time they were all meeting my kids. When I've seen Thing's extended family before (Thanksgivings, some parties, etc), it was during times the kids were with The Paperweight so this was the introduction of The Boy and The Girl.
As with all situations, we went over the rules beforehand, I had a bag of small toys and art supplies to entertain The Girl and I properly threatened The Boy. They were dressed in their Sunday Best and reminded of proper manners.

Overall, I was very impressed with them. The Boy shook hands and made pleasant conversation and remembered to be polite. The Girl even shook off her usually shyness for the day and politely answered any questions asked her.
Then we finished dinner.
And Odious poured down on us like a rain for fire.
Odious had been at Thanksgiving dinner so we pretty much knew what to expect from him. He started getting a little loud and wild in the next room, having finished his dinner first and been excused. I waited for Your Mom to step in and settle him down before something broke in the expensive-totally-not-child-friendly room, but she didn't. After a while, The Girl finished her dinner and went into the next room. Being young herself, it didn't take long before she got sucked into the loud 'play'. I excused myself from the table to take care of The Girl and I heard The Thing say to his mom something to the effect of 'Odious is getting out of hand and you may want to settle him down'.
I went one way into the next room and snatched The Girl. I saw Your Mom come in through the other doorway and approach Odious.
As always, I got down on one knee to face The Girl and started to go over The Rules again. I was just beginning when Your Mom approached me and started to talk. She was saying something about kids just being kids and everything's okay.
At first, I must admit, it did not occur to me that she was actually trying to interrupt me. I assumed that having just walked away from Odious she didn't realize that I was already in conversation with The Girl. And even as I was talking to The Girl, part of my brain was waiting for Your Mom to say 'oops, sorry. I'll come back' but she didn't. She just kept talking and talking about how the kids were settled now and what Odious said they were doing, etc.

So I stopped talking long enough to raise my hand in a stop motion and said to Your Mom 'I need to speak to my daughter right now please' and then went back to speaking with The Girl while Your Mom returned to the dinner table.
There were no further incidents with The Girl. She dug out her coloring book and markers and sat at the dinner table sharing with a younger boy.
Your Mom completely avoided me.
Odious spent the rest of the afternoon between periodic wild behavior and cornering victims into long 10 year old boy conversations where one could only hope for an atomic attack just in the hope that it would stop his yammering.
People left and the party was over much earlier than usual.

On the car ride home, I told The Thing what happened and how his mom even refused to acknowledge me when I told her goodbye. He agreed that I did nothing to warrant this behavior from her but admitted that he wasn't surprised she acted that way. The next night, I overheard him on the phone with her and he discussed it with me completely afterwards. She's very upset with me for being so 'hostile' with her.
Hostile? ::snort::
She thinks that was hostile? Can you imagine what she would think of my blog?
Yea, it was funny. Until The Thing told me Your Mom's version of the story....that she went in and talked to both kids and settled them down. And then I came in, snatched The Girl, was hostile to Your Mom and insinuated that she didn't know how to take care of kids.

That's too big for just initials - WHAT THE FUCK?!

We ignored it for a while, but The Thing came to me last week and asked if, out of the goodness of my heart, I'd be the one to approach her and make nice. After confirming it was not an apology he was after (since I did nothing wrong), I agreed. Thing admitted it was just not in Your Mom's personality to be the one to break-the-ice, and that she would, in fact, turn this into a melodrama in which to fret over for the next 20 years. So, in order to not have things be weird, I took the first step and called her.

She didn't pick up her phone.

She's never called me back.

Let the melodrama begin.

Having no particular pattern, purpose, organization, or structure

Welcome to all of my offically delurked commentors. And the regular commentors. And the ones who didn't participate and didn't delurk - Ya big rebels you.
I'm looking in to changing my layout but don't hold your breath or anything. While it will get done, it's probably going to take a while.

And Ewww. Enough about my brother being hot, okay?

I didn't accept the Facebook Friend invite from VFB. After 20 years of not speaking to me and not dying, I'm sure he'll be okay. And I figured (after you guys pointed it out to me) that I had nothing to gain from the experience and I didn't owe him anything so fuck it.
Besides, his profile was open so I got to see everything without accepting. He really is a fat fucker. ::evil laughter:: And all he could get from mine would be a profile picture and I look really hott in it (and I was a total nerd in school) so it's all good.
And now I have a new Facebook rule. If we weren't actual friends in highschool, we're not going to be Friends now that I'm hott, cool, and somewhat successful.

Fred called me yesterday. He asked me how I was doing. We talked for a half hour. I haven't really processed that yet but I think I'm happy about it.
Wilma, of course, was absent the entire conversation. I wonder if she even knows he called me?

The kids have the next three days off school. Pray for me.

Like the good old days

When I first started blogging, Delurking Day was actually Delurking Week. I don't know why it changed last year but it did and I don't like it. Know why? Because this year, Delurking Day was on Monday and I have been swamped with both work and life and missed it. Well, to me, that's just unacceptable. Besides, I'm a rebel, remember? So today (and the rest of the week) is my Delurking Day(s).

So quit lurking and stop by the comments and say Hi!

Actually, while you're there, why don't you make yourself useful and give me your vote. I'm trying to decide whether or not to change my blog layout. On one hand, I'm getting kind of bored with it. On the other, I'm kind of too lazy to change it.

What do you think? Out with the old and in with the new? Or leave well enough alone?

And if you would change it, is there anything in particular you'd like to see?

A thin line between forgiveness and calling someone a fat fuck

Most people know by now that Facebook is a cultural phenomenon. It enables you to connect with friends, at anytime, at any location around the world that has an Internet connection. It also helps you find and reconnect with any "old" friends you may have lost touch with over the years. The downfall is, Facebook also helps old "friends" reconnect with you.

Sitting in my inbox is a message that my very first boyfriend has added me as a Friend and I need to confirm or deny this. And as I no longer trust my social skills due to emotional scarring over the years once again you, dear Internet friends, are going to make this decision for me.

Things To Think About: 1. This was my very first boyfriend (who shall be called VFB here on out. I thought of many other variations of many other names but opted out so I can't be accused of needlessly influencing my audience.) As you already know (if you've read the 100 Things About Me list) VFB dumped me after a few months because he said I gave bad blowjobs.

A. We were 14 years old. Are there many 14 year olds who give good blowjobs? Personally, I think that would attest to my non-whore status and faithfulness to him

2. While this caused a lot of reactions in me and in my life, two were major enough that they still effect my daily life to this day.

A. VFB was the start of my emotional and relationship downfall; my love/hate relationship with men. My belief that all men really want is sex and my wrongful determination to equate sex with love.
B. I spent the next 20 years becoming the Queen of BJ's and learning to give the best damn head in the world. Thus by:
i. Giving up my non-whore status (I needed the practice)
ii. Making The Thing one very very happy man

The Thing, when I first told him about VFB being in my Inbox, hi-fived me. He wants to leave a bunch of Pro-BJ comments on my Wall for VFB (and everyone else apparently) to see. But then, because I have this whole "wanting to be a better person" thing going on, the discussion began.

Why is VFB asking to be my 'Friend'? We never spoke again after the break up - 20 years ago.

Does VFB even remember what happened? Would it be appropriate to ask him?

Do I just hit Deny and avoid the whole situation?

Do I Friend him? Then what? Wait and see what he says? Let it go after 2 fucking decades and pretend like nothing happened? Do I let him know all of the above in the hope of purging this demon? Or do I simply call him a fat fuck and revel in the immature satisfaction of it?